


Swim For You

by oohlong



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: 52-hertz whale, Astronaut, Gen, Implied Character Death, Lights, Stars, galaxy, sing for you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 05:26:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10892622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oohlong/pseuds/oohlong
Summary: All Sehun ever wanted was to reach the stars, and now that he's done it...





	Swim For You

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This was one of the fics I wrote when the Sing For You MV came out way back in 2015... It was written mostly to focus on feeling, I guess, test-fic type.

There is neither gravity nor ground where he is. Sehun simply hangs there, stranded like an estranged moon amongst stars of debris and eternal skies of space.

 

☆彡

 

"Thtar," Sehun professed solemnly at four years old, and blinked his big, dark brown eyes at the glowing specks in the clear night as he pressed his chubby fingers into the cold glass pane. Beside him, Jongin nuzzled deeper into his blanket and flung his leg over Sehun's, murmuring unintelligibly.

"Thtar," he repeated, and they twinkled in reply. He shifted forward until his nose touched the window. "Thtar."

"Oh Sehun," his mother sighed when she came to tuck them in, and drew the duvet up to his neck. "It's time to sleep, darling."

And he nodded obediently, and let his eyes fall closed after her gentle kiss on the forehead, his feathery long black lashes fluttering down against his cheek.

But even after she turned the lamp on his bedside table off routinely and left, he still couldn't resist peeking out for another moment, before sleep claimed him again in its soft embrace.

That night he dreamt of the glinting stars, granting his wish to be amongst them.

 

☆彡

 

"Race you to the water!" Sehun shrieked while he rushed over the dips and rises in the sand. Eagerly, he waded in, Jongin on his heels, and together they dove into the welcoming coolness of the sea.

Sehun resurfaced first, and Jongin followed a second later, floating on his back and sporting a bright white megawatt smile.

"That's why you're so tan," Sehun told him jokingly. "Always exposing yourself to the sun instead of having most of your body in the water."

Jongin swatted at him, and the water lapped a little higher around his neck, making Sehun panic and propel himself away.

"We're supposed to be doing our project, aren't we? So it doesn't really matter what I do; either way it's not what I'm supposed to do. So astronauts? Why astronauts of all things?"

"Would you rather be researching paleontologists or dentists or archaeologists? Come on, and besides, don't you like the beach so much more than projects?" Sehun retorted, dumping the seawater in his cupped hands over his best friend's face.

Jongin spluttered in reply and darted away, prompting Sehun to chase him around. It was pathetic though, because the pretty dancer definitely couldn't be beaten in stamina. At least not by the lean and lanky noodle that was Oh Sehun.

That afternoon, they trudged back to Sehun's house, towels wrapped around themselves and defeated by the elements with their flaming sunburns and pruny fingers.

Sehun poked Jongin's face. "And you know why I chose astronauts."

Jongin scrunched up his nose reflexively as he hit a sore spot, but relented. "Yeah, yeah I know, you want to be an astronaut, but really? Couldn't you have chosen it when you were doing projects on your own?"

Sehun pouted and shook his head until droplets came flying out of his hair. "Don't you support me?"

His best friend shoved his head gently. There was a soft smile playing on his splotchy red face. "No I do, Sehun. Always."

By midnight, Jongin doze off first like he always did, and Sehun was still up beside him, half-nested in blankets and gazing up. They no longer fit on one bed- it was just two mattresses laid side by side now- and Sehun's mum didn't come to tuck him into his covers anymore, but she did check in to make sure he was getting some semblance of sleep. He flicked off the lamp so she wouldn't bother him.

Today the stars were obscured by clouds seemingly spun out of cotton candy, drifting through the dark. But that was okay, because occasional rays of light still sparkled at him to acknowledge his dedicated eye.

Once his eyelids were failing him and sliding down with heavy sleep, Sehun cast one more yearning look up. They were all still there, responding in their glittering ways. Satisfied, he sunk into bed, and dreamt again, of reaching for the stars.

 

☆彡

 

Sehun pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and flipped the page.

They slid down again, and he chucked them over his shoulder, leaning so close his nose almost touched the book. Stars seem to twinkle in the night sky due to the light being disrupted as it passes through the earth's atmosphere, he learned.

That's why they seem to wink at him. He's sure they do like him as well though. At least a few of them, since there are approximately 200,000,000,000 stars in the Milky Way. Why not?

Jongin dove onto the bed, almost ploughing straight into him, and stole Sehun's laptop so he could do dodgy things on it and then blame him for it.

"Wow you're really obsessed," Jongin commented as he eyed the alien sticker on the space bar key.

"It makes it more space-y, you know?" Sehun replied matter-of-factly, choosing to calmly ignore Jongin's hysterical seal-laugh.

With one perfectly aimed kick, his best friend was lying on the floor the next moment, probably clutching his sides from laughter and well-deserved pain.

Moments later, Jongin flopped down on his stomach beside him again, knocking over a stack of thick tomes. "You really are set on being an astronaut, aren't you?"

He didn't reply.

Jongin grabbed the first book he could reach and scanned through it disinterestedly. "Well, you know, I wanted to be a ballerina when I was little."

"You could be," Sehun replied absently, still avidly reading. "You have been doing dance lessons for ages, haven't you?"

"I'm not sure I want to be one anymore. Seems more a nice thing to imagine than a thing to actually do."

He gave Sehun a small sideways look.

Sehun knew he did it without looking. "Don't do that. I'm going to be an astronaut."

"You will, you will," Jongin chuckled and affectionately ruffled his hair. "Our little Sehun, always reaching for the stars. Well you'll certainly get there some day."

 

☆彡

 

The day Sehun received his acceptance letter from the Space and Meteorology Electives detailing his inclusion in the EX Orion mission, he was sitting in the lounge with his laptop balanced precariously over his knees. Overhead, the lights flickered imperceptibly.

_Dear Mr Oh Sehun,_

_We are very pleased to inform you of your acceptance into the prestigious LES HEUREUX- Sehun read impatiently._

The light directly above him gave out, and sputtered out. Sehun ignored it and continued reading.

_-programme, where you have been allocated to the EX Orion mission with co-pilot Lu Han. Please report to Station on 21 September 2015 at 0700 hours._

_Yours,_   
_Kim Young-Min_

 

☆彡

 

The afterparty of the launch ceremony was like any other. Sehun's entire group of close friends whom he had gathered over the years all turned up to congratulate him.

He even got gifts. Zitao had shyly come up to him and given him a little black box, to which Jongin reacted first and asked if he was going to propose, causing the entire room to burst into laughter, and Zitao's face to burst into mortified crimson shades.

Kyungsoo stepped in between them. "Oh Sehun, do you take Huang Zitao-"

"Oh my god stop it, it's just a star charm," Zitao squealed and ran away to steal some alcohol and wash the embarrassment away.

And Sehun almost turned just as red with joy as he turned the silver pendant back and forth in his palm.

"It is a pretty thing though," Kyungsoo said approvingly, nodding at Zitao, who was still covering his face which now featured an even more aggravated salmon colour, courtesy of his asian flush.

"Thanks, you guys," Sehun said, beaming.

Luhan slung an arm around him. "Absolutely honoured to fly with Oh Starhun," he joked.

"Oh Starhun- how did we not think of that," Jongin giggled. "Thanks for that."

"I'll make stickers for that you know? Little astronaut tags with oh starhun in comic sans under it," Baekhyun declared through a mouthful of cake.

"Okay, no thanks to you."

"But you love me, maybe even more than space."

"You wish."

"Maybe that's what you've been telling the stars since we were what, like four?" Jongin said, slapping Sehun hard on the back.

 

☆彡

 

It is in the barely fledged hours of the morning when Sehun wakes with a jolt, either courtesy to the electric adrenaline coursing through his entire being or his alarm, which pierces through sleep like needles through wool.

He flicks the lamp on, inhales deeply at the thought that today is the day of all days, and rolls out of bed. His feet hit the floor in a muffled thud on carpet. Sehun reaches back and yanks the curtains aside a little. It's still dark outside.

He spends a moment there, enjoying the strangely comforting dullness of routine. Will he be a changed man after this space mission, having fulfilled his dreams? Will the slow metamorphosis of liquid night into a fanciful splash of sunrise come as an insignificant speck in the face of the things he will have seen? What is the moon, small as one of the row of pearls strung in his mother's favourite necklace, when he has seen an entity of a size he cannot fathom?

Sehun shakes his head. There is no point in dwelling on this- he will know the answers when the time comes.

So he changes quickly, filled with new anticipation, and goes downstairs to the kitchen two stairs at a time.

The lamplight on his table still glows.

 

☆彡

 

The news comes to them over a crackly live broadcast.

There are several people in a dimmed room hunched around a dining table, celebratory champagne flutes in hand and intently watching the too bright television.

As the reporter comes flickering into view, they cheer. "Gooo Sehun!"

Jongin grins especially wide, proud.

This is it.

"The Space and Meteorology Electives have lost brief connection to the recently departed command module EX Orion," the reporter announces. "However the central report system assures the wider community that reconnection to the EX Orion will assume shortly. It is expected they will reach within four minutes."

The smiles freeze, like this is a polaroid shot and they didn't hear the news.

This is it.

The broadcast disappears into a jingle advertising anti-ageing creams and perfume. Still no one moves.

The clock hand skips ahead despite the seeming halt of time, blissfully unaware. Three minutes pass.

The reporter returns. "The central report system has not yet reached the EX Orion however the specialists are certain they will be back on track soon. No other module in history has made it with four minutes of sustained blackout. It is now within the last minute, and my, it is a tense, and exciting time."

Kyungsoo downs his champagne and frowns at the empty flute intensely. "It should be fine, right? This happens right? So why do they look so tightlipped? Why?"

"We are with the headquarters right now, and look at the movement! It-"

Jongdae clamps a hand down on his shoulder, but says nothing, his eyes following the frantic bustle in the background.

Kyungsoo notices it too.

"Shit," he murmurs in realisation, eyes flickering back to the blaring television.

"It'll be fine," Junmyeon interjects finitely, his pale fingers gripping his own glass.

"You and I know that isn't true."

Minseok slams his champagne flute onto the table.

Table utensils rattle against the red checkered cloth. "God, that stupid boy. He had to go off to be an astronaut, didn't he? Always had his head in the clouds and reached for the stars. Didn't it ever reach his thick head that he'd never reach it? There's a reason so few venture into space- few are that stupid."

Kyungsoo sculls his champagne silently. The fizz fills his mouth with bitter bubbles.

"Shut up," Jongin murmurs, a stubborn sheen of tears clouding his vision, and it's a rumble, like thunder, rising, building, overflowing. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

He hurls his glass away. It smashes like glittering, acrimonious fireworks, the sound of a chime in a silent storm, all the wrong notes wrenched from something so beautiful. Each note sings of apologies, rings of torn confusion, and stings like shards of heavy denial.

I'm sorry.

This is it.

And then there is the quiet, the residue, the subsiding emotion returning to its trembling, tamer state like a coma. He can't face it.

So he marches off and slams the glass studio door behind him.

 

☆彡

 

Jongin hates the way he believes Minseok. Sehun is his best friend, goddammit, and he'd be a bastard to let him throw himself away to a task so supposedly reckless, and useless.

But it wasn't reckless or useless.

It was his dream, and it was a decision well considered; pondered, discussed and argued over. Minseok doesn't know the number of hours Jongin forced himself to borrow books about the dangers of space and research the possibilities. No one knows the times when he hesitated over certain articles, agonising when he read through lines and lines of uncertainties and curled in on himself in front of the laptop screen, trying to shake himself away from imagining Sehun facing these things on his own.

There was only a millionth chance, an impossible chance that something could've happened.

There's nothing wrong, Jongin tells himself.

Astronauts always lose contact for minutes at a time- it's a normal thing; space is such a powerful force and you should know that from all Sehun's stories, he continues as he executes a perfect pirouette. Don't you remember that research project you did with Sehun in high school?

And Sehun has a thing with space and especially the stars. They're lucky for him, aren't they? Wouldn't wishing on stars faithfully since they were four mean they're at least going to be a little kinder to him? Didn't Sehun use to say they looked like they were answering him, and his wishes?

Jongin dances, and he dances.

 

☆彡

 

Junmyeon stares at the gliding figure of Jongin, and then into the silvery reflection of his flat champagne. He probably needs something stronger.

Strong enough to delude him into a drunken lie where it hasn't been over ten minutes since the broadcast and to give him the strength to tell Jongin the Space and Meteorology Electives still hasn't reached Sehun yet. Junmyeon gnaws at his lip and chugs down the rest of the alcohol, because he won't even have to say anything and Jongin will know.

The silence is already answer enough.

 

☆彡

 

Where Sehun now drifts is the darkest place he's ever been, but filled with the brightest, most wondrous lights he has only ever glimpsed in his dreams.

It is ethereally beautiful.

In fact, it's far more than that, but Sehun can appreciate very little of it. His heartstrings feel like they're being tugged, as if a tether is drawing him back towards home or towards what debris was left of his space module.

Home. In such vast spaces like this, home seems very far away. Home is cosy, and constant, unlike the situation Sehun finds himself in now. He envisions his room, which is tiny compared to space, utterly miniscule with its inviting mess of cushions and clothes strewn all over the

He didn't expect this, for it to all go so wrong.

Sehun would never fathom that it would be his space module that would descend into a swirling, disintegrating inferno, didn't think it would be his co-pilot, strong, brave Luhan with twinkling nebulas in his eyes who wouldn't make it out, didn't ever imagine it would be his turn to be one more tiny, battered ornament in the galaxy so soon.

His mother once told him they were all made of stardust to begin with, and they would return to their long-lost place when they died. Sehun would laugh if his throat isn't so dry and constricted, if he ignores the gripping cold seeping into his suit, at how literally right she is. An insignificant speck of torn white gone unnoticed by all his friends back there.

All his friends back there who are waiting for him.

The pang of feeling is a punch to the gut. He almost doubles over, and he can't discern all of it, but it is swimming in him, drowning him inside out as a flood of guilt, yearning and desperation.

A tear leaks and Sehun swears wordlessly, but his lips are edging upwards. He wonders why he smiles too, as if it is a laughing matter. If he actually manages to drown himself with an overflow of tears in his astronaut suit...

How Jongin would laugh at him.

Jongin.

Snarky, sweet, sleepy Jongin, who never missed a beat to tease him. Yet dependable, dancing secretly endearing Jongin, who encouraged him to pursue his hopes and dreams. Crazy, crooked-smiled, chocolate chip cookie Jongin, who he probably won't ever see again.

Jongin probably won't ever see him, silly, spaced-out, star-reaching Sehun again either.

He wonders if he'll miss him.

 

☆彡

 

Scotch it is, a swirling amber in his shot glass. Junmyeon sips, even though no one ever sips neat alcohol but he does, forgetting all those artisan instincts to savour the texture and flavour, and enjoy. He swishes it around in his mouth thoughtlessly, and watches Jongin twirl and leap, the tense of muscles, the swoop, the graceful arc.

He still hasn't told him.

 

☆彡

 

The flat of his foot hits the ground again with his last step, an elegant mock bow of sorts, and Jongin looks up, straight into the emotionless, pale face of Junmyeon who he knows has been watching him, who has been sitting there sipping some golden alcohol reserved for when he deals with exigent business matters.

The man meets his eyes steadily, but says nothing, still sipping.

How long has he been dancing for?

More than four minutes, he realises with a sinking heart. He searches Junmyeon's face for clues, and finds none. Or perhaps it's that he is refusing to accept the clues he sees.

"Sehun's alright, isn't he?" he asks inaudibly.

Junmyeon catches the words with the slow blink of an eye. For aeons, he just observes Jongin stoically.

Then he turns away and Jongin desperately watches him down the last of his drink. It's like seeing the last drop of amber time fall from the hourglass.

His knees buckle beneath him. Silver moonlight shines through the windows in long panelled sections, between the slats in the ceiling. His gaze sharpens on his surroundings. Everything seems normal, but nothing is; he sees everything he doesn't care about, and all he doesn't see is Sehun.

He looks up, through the windows where light drapes its milky lustre from. Although he cannot see the stars, Jongin knows they are shining there without a care in the world. In some strange sort of irony, he realises they have granted his wish in a twisted way- now, he is among them, is he not? That's what Sehun wanted, wasn't it? To reach the stars?

They can go on without him. Jongin doesn't know if he can.

 

☆彡

 

It's insanely overwhelming to be alone in space. Sehun, a skinny giant among his friends at home, is completely dwarfed by these celestial bodies.

He constantly yearns to return to the EX Orion, which no longer exists, where he could've been in contact with someone, anyone. Humans are much preferred to aliens, as much as he likes them to the point of having inspired stickers on his laptop, and Sehun has to say he won't be able to properly greet them if he meets them anyway.

Sehun most likely won't see them until they abduct him as well, since he's taken to keeping his eyes closed because of the cosmic radiation he read up about, and even then he can still see the flashes behind his eyelids. There he is, blind to oblivion and floating to nowhere.

His hand touches something smooth and silky.

Sehun squeezes his eyes shut tighter. There is no jarring impact, no licking flames, just a soft, unimposing pressure in his palm.

Slowly, he opens them.

He blinks.

He blinks again.

And again.

Yet the sight before him does not disappear.

It is a whale, sleek and navy-blue, with obsidian eyes and a sedate, perspicuous expression of curiosity. A whale in the middle of space, in an ocean where nothing is everything.

He's finally going mad. It doesn't matter anymore.

But Sehun pets him, and the whale doesn't recoil. Instead, the creature stares, occasionally blinking slowly, and butts his hand.

I'm calling you 94, Sehun declares seriously and silently, my lucky number, because you're lucky. You have to be. Otherwise why are you here, something made from nothing in this vast expanse of a universe? Whales don't live in space.

94 flips his tail in response. _Swim with me_ , Sehun reads in his movements.

 

☆彡

 

Sehun wonders where 94 came from. The smooth velvety skin under his hand seems too real to be a hallucination.

No textbook he has ever read about the expansive world of space mentions whales.

94 knows where he's going too; he has led him past ancient manifestations of the stardust they once were, like a tour through a galactic museum. Or perhaps he is the spectacle for the stars to observe.

Nevertheless, he supposes it's nice to have another living entity beside him in this place. It's like Luhan is here, and they're still just two astronauts traversing their hopes and dreams.

Astronauts.

Are they astronauts now though, or simply souls lost in another kind of sea? Sehun runs his fingers over 94's side and suddenly recalls one of the projects he did in high school with Jongin.

"Being an astronaut would be one of the most ethereal jobs in the world," Sehun read out clearly.

The class before him was practically asleep, and even Jongin next to him was kind of nodding off even though he was presenting too. He frowned, but continued. "They reach into the unknown, delve into vast mysteries to mankind, and experience what few can. Even the etymology of the word astronaut lends insight into the nature of astronauts; astrum meaning star, and nauta meaning sailor. Think Christopher Columbus of extraterrestrial space. Simply put, they are the sailors of new seas, seas of infinite beauty far more lethal and indefinite but far more gratifying than what we find in the blue expanses of our oceans."

Sailors. Whales. A dry laugh falls from his chapped lips, the kind where even he can't be sure it's a happy one.

But that was only a metaphor, wasn't it? It was his high-school self waxing poetry about the galaxies beyond that he dreamed of, wasn't it? Wasn't it?

There is a gentle push at his leg. Sehun jerks away wildly.

A tawny doe blinks at him, long luscious lashes a haunted shadow against its fur. It has a tender sort of look in its warm eyes, and takes a slow, quivering step towards him. The eyes are so damn similar, but he can't quite pinpoint them in his dread.

Sehun sees the singed fur on its back and reaches behind him for the comforting solidity of 94. Instantly, he recognises the gaze.

It all comes back to him, and he sees Luhan direct a playful little salute at him, soft brown hair just visible above his eyebrows. Sehun sees him mouth oh starhun at him.

He sees the little star charm on black velvet Zitao gave him at the party, twinkling on his bedside drawer in the moonlight coming through the window.

No, no, no don't.

_Please don't._

But his hands only snatch at air. His heart thumps frantically as his eyes dart around, looking for the huge whale. 94 has swum around him to the doe, and is staring at him with a solemn, brooding gaze.

 _No, please_ , Sehun begs, the words like tides washing from his lips. _Please. I'm sorry, Luhan._

What is he sorry for?

Sehun has no idea- should he be apologetic for surviving, and that Luhan didn't- all he feels is the panic building up in his chest.

Loneliness breaks over him like a cold wave. Is he insane? To die alone in space?

The odds of being killed by space debris are 1 in 5 billion, he recites to himself, a little beside himself with the lack of comfort the statement brings him.

He's so scared.

What is so frightening about space? Is it that it is unknown?

Another tear escapes. He shudders, watching it float around inside his space helmet, and he feels like a goldfish inside a bowl. It looks like a tiny moon, similar to the one he would gaze at from home knowing it was millions and millions of miles away.

Now he's probably a few hundred thousand miles closer, but somehow it isn't nearly as exciting as he'd envisioned it to be.

 

☆彡

 

Stars also fail to twinkle now that Sehun is in space. They swim around him, inexplicably aloof and majestic, no longer affording him the bright flashes of light they used to as a child stargazing from his window. His rational side tells him there's no more interference, and that funnily enough, there is no space, yet all space, between him and those beautiful lights.

But the four year old Sehun which drove him to pursue this dream of reaching them remains an intrinsic part of him, awed in equal parts to confused at their rigid silence. Why, after all these years, now that he is so close to them, do they decide to ignore him?

Do they not feel proud that he has come so far in every way? Do they not feel an atom of fondness for him, he who has wished upon them since mere childhood?

Do they feel at all?

 

☆彡

 

In Sehun's room, the bedside lamp is still on.

Mrs Oh hasn't been in the room since the news. No one has.

And like that, the lamp has been counting the hours of Sehun's absence, waiting for the moment its owner may walk back in, wearied, and slip under the covers of his bed. Sehun will stare at the stars- or perhaps, he may not be able to look at them again- and then turn the light off to sleep.

A year later, the lamp succumbs, flickering away with its knowledge. In the reflection of the window, it looks as if stars are dying. Perhaps they know too- perhaps they all know, that it is pointless to keep count, if the hours will lengthen on forever, into infinity.

And besides, where Sehun is, there is no place for a trifling 40-watt bedside lamp.

 

☆彡

 

It is so, so cold.


End file.
